


What in Carnation

by MikaKagehjra



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaKagehjra/pseuds/MikaKagehjra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His knees felt weak and his chest tight, and this time he knew it wasn’t just from being close to Wataru. Still, Wataru’s wide eyes gave him a little more strength, or so it felt like. He’d love to coax a myriad of expressions onto that beautiful face, if only he had the time.</p>
<p>Obligatory hanahaki disease fic to start my descent into the enstars fandom.  Warning: unrequited keichi is pretty explicitly stated, but this is purely an eiwata fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone; this is my first fic for the enstars fandom, but I hope to be writing more. If you have suggestions, or want sneak peeks at what I'll be writing, or want to listen to me screech about Mika or eiwata, check out my twitter:
> 
> http://twitter.com/mikakagehjras

Today, Eichi was the last one standing in the practice room when fine’s practice ended. It was a rare case; Tori was usually quick to leave, Yuzuru following after, but Wataru at least frequently remained even when practice was over, a luxury Eichi didn’t often have due to his health. But Wataru had left before their last run-through of the choreography, unusual for him, and he hadn’t returned. Well, Wataru always performed flawlessly; Eichi couldn’t fault him for leaving a single practice early simply because he felt the loss of the other’s company. He told the others he’d tidy up afterwards, much to Yuzuru’s chagrin, but when Tori had accepted it and left, he was obligated to follow. Eichi smiled, thinking of his adorable juniors, but the expression was interrupted when he noticed a single flower laying at his feet. A pink camellia. Odd to find it there when he was fairly certain it hadn’t been there when he’d first unlocked the room, but not so odd that he paused to think much of picking it up. Wataru always had flowers, after all; perhaps he’d decided to mix it up a bit and add camellias to his portable garden.

Suddenly, Eichi wanted to keep this strange flower. When he locked up the practice room behind him, he still held it in his hands.

~

Days later, he was ignoring a tickle in his throat. He couldn’t afford to be sick now; perhaps if he was lucky, his body was simply tired, and if he pretended the urge to cough wasn’t a lingering constant, it would go away before it developed into anything serious. Of course, when it came to his body he was rarely lucky, but he didn’t want to see a doctor if it might be nothing and risk another hospitalization for something he hadn’t noticed yet. They said chronic symptoms sometimes became easier to overlook, and even if Eichi was certain enough that he still felt the pain of his malfunctioning body, he hated the hospital more than he hated attempting to push through whatever this was.

Finally, he couldn’t hold back a cough, and was shocked to find that his lungs weren’t pushing up air, but something significantly more substantial. A single cough turned into a fit, and thankfully the tea club was empty or someone might have become concerned. He pulled his hands away from his face when he could breathe again and was met with a shower of daffodils, as pristine as if they had just been plucked off the stem. He’d suspect he’d simply dreamed coughing them up if his throat weren’t sore and his mouth didn’t taste like dirt.

He tried to quell the trembling in his hands as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed into the search bar: _coughing up flowers_. He knew that wasn’t a symptom of his illness; if it had been, he’d have been warned, and more than that, he’d have already done it before. He clicked on an article at the top titled Hanahaki Disease and began to read.

_Borne of unrequited love, the only symptom is coughing up flowers. Can be removed via surgery, however, the feelings involved will disappear along with the flowers. For this reason many patients refuse treatment. It can only be cured through reciprocated love. If left unchecked, the flowers blooming in the patient’s lungs will eventually become deadly._

Eichi stopped reading when he registered the word ‘deadly.’ If only he’d read further to find out how he’d gotten it. A few lines down, it was clearly stated: contracted from contact with infected flowers.

But Eichi hadn’t kept reading. The article remained on his phone, still marked if he were to open the internet browser, but he simply turned off his phone screen and buried his head in his hands, now free of flowers. Even now, he felt the tickle of something in his windpipe again. He didn’t even need to pause to consider who it was - who else could it be but his very own Hibiki Wataru? It had always been him, since the moment he’d caught Eichi in his arms when they were still enemies and Eichi had thought the hair swirling around him looked like moonlight. And knowing that, a dozen thoughts buzzed in his head at once, about how this had happened, what his having this new affliction meant, and what he was going to do about it now that he realized it.

But Eichi didn’t have to think much about what he was going to do now, either. He had always been dying, anyway; he’d rather die in love than alone. The only thing there was to do was to keep anyone from finding out about it before it was too late - particularly Keito and Wataru himself. Eichi choked on a sigh as he coughed up more flowers, gardenias this time that scraped across his throat and came out flecked with blood. He pursed his lips; while he had his general poor health counting against him, if he continued to worsen at this rate, it wouldn’t be long. His hands curled into fists, crushing the flowers held in them.

~

Eichi continued as normal; changing anything now would only arouse suspicion, and he thought it might be better if the period of knowing was shorter, his death like ripping off a bandaid to those around him. Or a pleasant surprise, to most of the school. After all, he hadn’t come to Yumenosaki to be liked, and he didn’t brush his wrongdoings under the rug. Perhaps it would make a good deal of them feel better, their feelings soothed and their performances improved more than Eichi could ever hope for. That was a nice thought, even if it came to him as he coughed up red carnations, unable to tell how bloody they were due to their color but feeling his throat rubbed raw.

Still, even as he continuously escaped to the bathrooms to throw up greenhouses worth of flowers, he was sure no one suspected a thing. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be pale and sickly, after all. They couldn’t be expected to guess at the true cause, and Eichi was glad of that even as he felt shakier on his feet every day. He amazed even himself as he forced his way through practices, even on days when he’d be staggering and swallowing flowers by the end of it, pushing away everyone’s concern with a vacant smile.

Well, there was no hiding that he was sick, but at least no one had found out about the flowers yet.

~

Being with Wataru almost made Eichi forget about the flowers, even though his presence only seemed to make them tickle and scratch at the back of his throat more. Today Eichi had convinced Wataru that a little bit of one-on-one training wouldn’t kill him as long as he didn’t use quite the same intensity he did for Tori. In reality, while he’d been jealous of the intensive training Wataru did for Tori, Eichi knew he wouldn’t last for 30 minutes under a similar regimen. Maybe he just wanted to dance with Wataru, knowing what was coming for him. He did have his CDs with him, and he knew selfishly that Wataru wouldn’t refuse a request if he became brave enough to voice it.

“Dance with me, Wataru,” he demanded halfway through stretching, lifting one of Wataru’s hands in his and placing the other on his waist, doing his best to ignore the warmth radiating from where they touched. He didn’t even bother putting on any fitting music, pulling Wataru into the first few steps before he got the idea and took the lead, showing his enthusiasm for this new direction with a spin that left Eichi just a little dizzy.

“If I’d known this was what you wanted, I’d have prepared something! Oh, I could have brought mood music, or worn heels-”

“Not flowers?” Eichi teased, ignoring the way their mention made his throat tighten. “It’s perfect like this, though.” Wataru’s face flushing slightly, not even enough that he’d have noticed a few months ago, was his reward for speaking his mind. “You could always sing if you want music ♪"

“Is that a request from the Emperor himself?”

“Just from Eichi, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to be the Emperor of Yumenosaki… not right now. His knees felt weak and his chest tight, and this time he knew it wasn’t just from being close to Wataru. Still, Wataru’s wide eyes gave him a little more strength, or so it felt like. He’d love to coax a myriad of expressions onto that beautiful face, if only he had the time.

“Just from Eichi is more than okay.” Before Eichi had time to process that, Wataru was singing, their feet gliding across the practice room floor as though they’d been dancing together for years. And for a few blissful minutes, Eichi didn’t think about anything, just danced and listened and watched Wataru’s face even though he knew he was being obvious. It didn’t matter anymore, right? He wanted to memorize that face more than anything.

On a half-turn though, he wobbled, prompting Wataru to stop immediately. He knew Wataru was calling his name, but it was like he was listening from underwater, Wataru’s increasing desperation unable to reach him. His head swam and his hands slipped out of Wataru’s but only for a moment as the other was ready to catch him. He felt flowers at the back of his throat and turned away, unwilling to dirty Wataru’s graceful, perfect, beautiful face as he had on the day they first spoke. He showered the floor with petunias and blood, a ringing in his ears drowning out Wataru’s words as he choked and the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up to Keito by his bedside and the infuriating beep of the heart monitor was not unusual; it almost made Eichi feel like this was another one of his usual horrible hospital stays, and not definitively his last. Even when he saw Eichi was awake, they sat in silence, the occasional cough bringing flowers falling from Eichi’s lips, coming to rest in his hands flecked with blood. He felt more in his chest even as he expelled them, constricting his lungs. Keito frowned down at them, and the silence as he simply watched Eichi choke on the blossoms was oppressive. “Who is it?” He demanded, eyes on the bloodstained cyclamen in Eichi’s lap.

Eichi laughed, the sound a wheezing, broken thing, curled around a sob. “Who else, Keito?”

Keito could only sigh, pushing his glasses up further on his face. “I knew that freak was dangerous, but I never imagined anything like this…” He trailed off; insulting Wataru was a waste of his breath, with Eichi like this. “I don’t suppose you could be convinced to have it removed?”

Eichi shook his head. “I was always counting down the days until my death. If I’m going to die a little sooner than I hoped, as long as I’m still myself, so be it.” He said that, but his smile was hollow and his hands shook where they were clenched in the sheets at his sides. Eichi had spent his whole life running from his own death; confronting it now and knowing just how quickly it was coming for him after all this time was terrifying. Keito could do nothing but cover his childhood friend’s hands with his own, hoping to offer his own support. The one thing he’d never been able to scold Eichi for was his own looming demise, now suddenly drawing closer.

“You’re a fool.” His voice didn’t sound nearly as harsh as he intended, but he pressed on, pretending it didn’t make him sick to do so. “Who is it that’s been clinging to life so fiercely despite the odds for as long as I’ve known you? Don’t be idiotic; a blind man could see that Hibiki is in love with you. And he _did_ bring you here.” He swallowed harshly, standing up. “I have to at least go back to properly delegate the necessary work in your absence. I forbid you to die before I return.”

Eichi’s answering smile was watery. “Well if you say it like that, I can hardly refuse.” He coughed weakly, his tired lungs barely able to muster the motion required—but if they couldn’t he’d choke, after all. Primroses burst from between his lips, bloodied by his torn throat, falling apart even as they landed in his hands. “I’ll do my utmost.” He watched Keito’s back grow smaller for as long as he could keep himself from coughing, but soon sweetpeas were falling into his lap to join the primroses and cyclamen. Even though he’d acceded to Keito’s demand, he knew the weakness in his body all too well. He smiled with bloody lips, closing his eyes as he laid back against the bed to wait.

~

Keito, meanwhile, had other business to attend to besides Student Council. Yumenosaki could fall apart this very moment and he wouldn’t care. He instead stormed into the theater department, ignoring Mashiro skittering out of his way, sure that he would find the person he was looking for there. Still, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Hibiki!” Keito called from the stage, crossing his arms impatiently. Perhaps the other wasn’t here, but that seemed unlikely. Oddball though he was, Hibiki did have a passion for theater, and Keito predicted he’d retreat here after escorting Eichi to the hospital. For a few long seconds, he was only answered by silence, but just as he was about to give up, Hibiki appeared in front of him.

Literally. Keito couldn’t explain where he’d come from if his life depended on it. How unnecessary…

“Ah, my fated rival makes his entrance stage left! What an exciting twist… How amazing! ✩”

Keito sighed, aggravated. “I didn’t come here for your parlor tricks or inane rambling. It’s about Eichi.”

Wataru’s face fell. “Of course. How is our beloved Emperor?”

“Maybe you should visit him now that he’s awake and see for yourself.” As much as Keito hated allowing Hibiki in Eichi’s presence, that was his goal here, after all.

“I couldn’t possibly disturb-”

“Oh, save it. I don’t want to hear any excuses because you feel bad. He’s there because of you, so take some responsibility.”

Wataru’s eyes widened. “Responsi-” He cut himself off with a cough. Before Keito could rescind his demand, as sick people didn’t belong anywhere near Eichi, in love with him or not, Wataru was turning away, a single cough turning into a fit. And even Keito would be concerned that someone who seemed perfectly healthy moments earlier was coughing so violently, but then he saw the geraniums landing on the stage and he was only furious.

“ _You_. You really _did_ do this to him,” Keito spat, taking a step away. “You were too much of a coward to take care of it on your own, and then you got careless and gave it to him, too.”

“I know.” Wataru didn’t turn around, now kneeling on the stage with palmfuls of flowers.

“That’s even worse! Why didn’t you do anything if you knew?!”

“Me, giving the Emperor medical advice? I am not even fit to act on my own without his direction. That wouldn’t have been my place.” Though his words were closer to Wataru’s usual bravado, his mask was already cracked, his voice tired. There was no reason to keep acting when Keito knew everything and Tomoya had fled from his grief, even if he hardly knew himself what hid beneath the many masks.

“You’re despicable. You’re in love with him, and you were ready to let him let himself die anyway. What use is a jester who won’t even keep his emperor alive?” Keito sneered at the roles Wataru had devised for himself and Eichi, using them now as insults rather than taking them seriously.

“I can’t force a decision on him, no matter my feelings. I know that far better than you, who could never accept that he wanted to be your friend, not your charge or unrequited love.”

“How _dare_ you-”

“More than anything, I want him to live. More than anything, I want him to be happy. It seems our beloved has decided that he cannot do both. And who am I to demand he lives against his wishes?” A tear slid down Wataru’s face and he scrubbed at it before it could encourage others to follow, still not turning to face Keito. “For that matter, who are you?”

Before Wataru could move, he felt a tug to his hair as he was pulled roughly to his feet and spun to face Keito, taken off guard in a rare move. “I’d slap you, but I don’t want my hands anywhere near where those filthy flowers have been.” Keito pushed up his glasses and let out an aggravated sigh that bordered on a groan. “You’re both imbeciles; honestly, I’d be better off if I just left you both to die. For some ungodly reason, the fool is in love with you. Unsurprising, seeing as how his taste has always been bad. Now go; I’ll clean up this unsightly mess. It’s you that he needs this time.”

Wataru hesitated. “Don’t touch-”

“I’m not an idiot like the two of you; I won’t touch them. Stop wasting time and go already.”

And well, Wataru knew when he was not wanted. He slipped away quietly, pretending not to have heard the crack in Keito’s voice with his final order.

~

Wataru perched on the windowsill outside Eichi’s hospital room, prepared to make his grand entrance. He cleared his throat, tucking the dislodged petal into his pocket so it wouldn’t fall where it might accidentally infect someone else with this ironically dreadful disease, and then pried open the window with a flourish, landing without his usual shower of roses. He figured they might be a bit insensitive at this point, and besides, it was becoming quite the chore to keep them away from the flowers he kept coughing up. He had no room for mistakes, even more than usual.

“Your very own Hibiki Wataru has arri-” His voice died in his throat as he laid eyes on Eichi for the first time since he’d brought him here. Much like the previous time he’d been in the hospital, there were petals scattered about the bed, though this time they were piled in his lap without a care for presentation, dripping with blood. Eichi’s face was turned slightly away from him, but he could see blood at the corner of his mouth through the oxygen mask sitting atop his face. Keito hadn’t mentioned that.

Overcome by emotion, he was taken by surprise by a coughing fit, realizing it was coming too late to suppress it. Purple hyacinths fell at his feet, beautiful if not for their origin. And when Wataru recovered enough to look back up, Eichi was looking back.

“My poor Wataru—it seems you and I suffer the same fate. I apologize for my unsightly appearance.”

Wataru pretended that the phrase didn’t bring to mind their first meeting. “I cannot forgive what has never been a fault. Though I confess, I’m afraid I think I’ve condemned you to it.”

Eichi pulled the oxygen mask down and Wataru struggled with the decision not to protest. “Come closer.” As though Wataru hadn’t been drawn to his side since the moment they locked gazes. He moved forward and sat on the edge of the bed when Eichi gestured. “Do you mean you gave me the illness? How? I confess, I only read a small amount when I looked it up…”

“You get it through contact with infected flowers. And I may have… misplaced one.”

Eichi immediately knew what Wataru meant. “The pink camellia that day you left practice early.” He paused. “Were you already sick then? That’s why you left?”

Wataru smiled. “Yes. I hope you know I wouldn’t leave practice for anything trivial.”

“Of course. You’re the only person I’ve met who’s as dedicated as I am, and you have the physical capabilities to back it up.” Perhaps once Eichi might have sounded bitter, but now his tone is only slightly wistful. “May I ask who it is? Of course, I’ll tell you mine as well, but it’s only fair you go first when I’m like this.” He coughed weakly, a few purple carnations falling to the bed, and then choked when he hadn’t expelled them powerfully enough, forcing Wataru to help him sit up while he retched. More carnations tumbled to the sheets, all flecked with blood. Wataru handed him a cup of water from the bedside table when he was done, trying not to be alarmed by how unsteady his breathing was. “You might as well tell me.”

Wataru hated that he made it sound like he’d already been served his death sentence. Maybe that was what made him admit it. Or maybe he believed what Keito said, believed that he wouldn’t lie about something like that. “Who else?” He couldn’t know he was echoing Eichi’s own words from earlier. “I’ve been in love with you for almost as long as I’ve known you.”

Almost the moment the words left his mouth, Wataru felt a deceptively strong grip at the front of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss that tasted like petals and dirt and blood but was still the best kiss he could imagine. It only lasted for a few moments, limited by Eichi’s damaged lung capacity, but those few moments were nothing less than bliss.

“And you had resigned yourself to death, as though I could ever know you and not be in love with you. We’re both fools.” Eichi smiled, and even with blood still staining the corner of his mouth, it took Wataru’s breath away. He couldn’t say how much of his breathing easier was the lack of flowers clogging his airway and how much was just joy and relief, but he supposed it didn’t actually matter. He stood, taking both of Eichi’s hands in his own and bowing down to kiss them.

“Allow me to say it properly this time—though I am not worthy, I love you dearly, and I feel as though I could love you for a thousand lifetimes more. If it would please you, nothing would delight me more than to remain by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

Eichi pulled Wataru back onto the bed, adjusting their hands so that they were properly intertwined. “Nothing would make me happier than an eternity with you. You can call me an emperor, all you like, but you… are everything. The first time I saw you perform, I thought your beauty must drive people mad.” He pulled Wataru into another kiss, longer than the last. “If this is madness, I will not miss my sanity.”

Wataru couldn’t help but let out a giddy laugh at that, settling more comfortably so that he and Eichi were side by side on the bed. Wrapped around each other and surrounded by bloodied flowers, he thought he’d be content to remain there forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Keito.
> 
> Anyway, that's all for today folks! Again, my twitter is @mikakagehjras and thank you to @saintwataru for helping me with Wataru's speech! And general revising. Corn is a godsend, basically.


End file.
